


seven: the middle of the night

by wordtheef



Series: thirteen ways of looking at a Lannister [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-01 11:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20257594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordtheef/pseuds/wordtheef
Summary: I’ll do anything, she says, and means it.





	seven: the middle of the night

_Ser Jaime._

_Lady Brienne. _He’s amused to see her, angry to see her. He doesn’t like interruptions, especially not at night, and it is very late indeed.

He lets her inside. Shuts the door. _What can I help you with?_

Nerves make her direct. _I want to be a knight. I _deserve_ to be knighted. You know it’s true, you know I should have been —_

_Should have been, yes. If the world turned on fairness and equity, which it does not. _Jaime pauses_. Or if I were a charitable man, which I am not._

_I’ll do anything, _she says, and means it.

Jaime says: _There is one thing I want._

And Brienne knows her guess was right. 

She nods, tight. _Now?_

_Now,_ says Jaime. _I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you?_

He unlaces her slowly, too slow, but he can’t go quick with one hand, can he? and maybe he is testing her resolve.

She won’t be passive. She _isn’t_. She runs a hand over his hip to his (oh) and it twitches, he smiles

_Is that how it is, my lady?_

and he rubs at her, between her legs where she touched when she thought about this earlier, in her room, alone.

_Jaime, _she thought, and _What if, _and_ It will be worth it._

She hopes it’ll be worth it.

His hand is warmer than hers and shaped differently, and when he slips it into her trousers she flinches

but his callouses are soft on her, soft, he’s tucking just the end of his fingertip inside her and dragging it out again, over the (yes) and then (yes) he does it again (yes)

faster now

she grabs his arm and Jaime laughs. _More? _he says. _Or stop?_

_Stop _is on her face but _Go on, _she says (I am going to be a knight, I am I am I _will) _

(what’s one more pain?)

but Jaime _looks_ at her bareness and he makes a sound of interest and laughs again when she blushes, thinking _he’s going to drag this out _

but not a full minute later she’s on her back and he pushes inside and she cries out, ashamed.

She hadn’t meant to be loud.

It’s partly the pain (but there isn’t much pain) and mostly the suddenness, the full-body shock — he covers her mouth and says _Stop wriggling, you’re like a damned fish_

and goes in further, further, til he’s all the way and she’s shaking and he groans.

She didn’t know which Jaime to expect — who would he be? the laughing cynic he is at home? the shaken lion in chains? the brave, bold idiot at the bear pits?

— but it wasn’t this.

He looks exactly as he does when he’s fighting

_(It gets our juices flowing)_

and he looks completely unfamiliar, he’s trembling, he pulls up her leg around him to settle on his hip and the other leg follows automatically and he’s filling her deeper, rougher. She arches and the throbbing changes, Jaime’s hand on her changes its grip and his eyes are crossed, unfocused

It’s beautiful and base and she sees now what her old septa meant, saying that _bedding is an animal act. _They might as well be beasts in a field, she might as well be taken under the open sky. There is nothing of love in this.

There isn’t much thought of love in Brienne either, she’s purely selfish — this is for _her own ends_ — and it’s only luck

(fate)

that he fits into her body like this

like water disappearing into sand, like a flock of birds lifting up to fly. Two dancers in one dance.

Her hands wrap around his shoulders and the nails dig down for purchase, he’s damp with sweat and thrusting into her hard, jolting through her like lightning and she feels him finish

he’s swearing now, repeating _Fuck fuck fuck _and he rolls off her, staring at her face

and Brienne finds herself on the edge of something — some mountain, some emptiness — that she won’t ever find again, she won’t even look for

in fear it might swallow her whole.


End file.
